I
still don’t think I’ve recovered,
mentally or physically, from having my head wedged
in a door at the Port Charlotte Hotel at the end
of a heated discussion (with a distinguished Malt
Maniac of all people) over the literary merits
or otherwise of the erstwhile author Nick Hornby.
Now let’s get my position straight. Having
read the first 37 pages of Fever Pitch, and then
never having turned another of any of his novels,
I am uniquely positioned to judge his writing
as flaccid, self-indulgent, white middle class
twaddle. An unfortunate stain on the reputation
of 21st Century British literature.

Oh
yes – and I was mightily pissed-off when I
lost my regular North London parking space outside
the Home of Football at Highbury when Fever Pitch
was being filmed (key message Mr Hornby –
never fuck with someone’s parking). But I
conceded – and at this point the pressure
on my head somewhat eased – that Hornby’s
31 Songs is an inspired read, and in truth was the
book that lead me to Aimee
Mann – not enough to warrant
forgiving Mr Hornby for his other sins, but maybe
it’s a start. And certainly, as I recall,
enough to diffuse a potentially nasty confrontation
which ended happily in a musical discussion over
a Caol Ila or three.

So
Hornby is also responsible for us being in Glasgow
to see the great camera shy Diva – as the
photographer discovered when a strip search (it’s
a Glasgow thing) resulted in all her equipment being
confiscated (very pleasantly I should add) for the
duration of the evening. It’s part of a European
tour to promote the new ‘concept’ album
The Forgotten Arm. Actually I’m not sure it’s
a concept in the way that marketeers might understand
it – no apparent functional benefit for example,
but rather a collection of songs (a song cycle then)
narrating the torture of a doomed relationship,
foundering on despair and drug addiction. So doomed
and so despairing that I’m surprised that
it manages to go for twelve songs – I might
have given up after about half a dozen, but as at
least one other writer has said, so it goes.

The
previous two albums, Bachelor No 1 and Lost in Space
were works of real lyrical and musical beauty, marked
to a great extent by the guitar work of Michael
Lockwood, as well, of course, as Ms Mann’s
astonishing and quite unique voice. New concept,
new album, new producer, new band, but unfortunately
nothing as new and surprising – and simply
as engaging – as some of the work on the previous
two.
Not to say that this isn’t a good evening.
Ms Mann is one cool performer; relaxed, charming
and chatty. Nothing to suggest the ‘difficult’
reputation that she is supposed to have. She handled
the good-natured Glasgow hecklers with aplomb, and
won the hearts of the audience (well, those that
she didn’t already have in her pocket) during
the encore with a call for requests. All rehearsed
I cynically thought, until she and the band embarked
on a song that quite clearly neither they, nor I,
for that matter, could remember. Brave stuff. We
got most of the new album in the correct ‘concept’
order (apart from the nice ‘King of the Jailhouse’
which was the first encore) interlaced with a selection
of older tunes, such as ‘Back to Zero’,
‘Invisible Ink’, ‘Susan’
and ‘4th July’.

Ms
Mann’s voice lived up to all expectation,
added to which she played acoustic and electric
guitars, bass and piano. No lack of talent there
then. Nor with her band who, though we didn’t
catch the name of the brilliant drummer –
‘played like an old-fashioned jazz percussionist’
said the idle photographer, were I strongly suspect
the core of the musicians on Forgotten Arm. And
a nice set of lights too, which reminded me of the
lettering on the cover of the old Jimi Hendrix Smash
Hits album.
The problem was that as the evening wore on the
one real weakness in Ms Mann’s armoury became
apparent.

Most of the songs were one paced, played at the
same tempo which was frankly verging on the tedious
just before the main set ended. And it makes all
the songs sound the same, which I know isn’t
true, but then I’ve never listened to three
of her albums back to back, and to be honest I’m
beginning to wonder if I’d buy a fourth. So
what I began to think was that you needed to be
a real fan to like this stuff in such intense doses,
and began to doubt if I was. Lucky though that 99%
of the good-natured audience were. They had a ball,
and we had a good time too. Just a bit disappointing,
that’s all.
Anyway music lovers, it’s adieu from me, at
least for a little while. I’m writing this
from a room overlooking Oban Bay, and I’m
about to start my annual fortnight’s adventure
around the West Coast of Scotland. But not to worry
– plenty of great gigs lined up for August,
including our Festival Special. Happy sailing. Nick
Morgan